Trust Files
by miniamelia13
Summary: When the wife of Peter Browning is fatally ill, she needs to know who she can trust in her final months. As Arthur assembles the team, minus Cobb, a two new members enter the mix: Dylan, a brilliant young chemist, and Liz... Arthur's little sister.
1. Chapter 1

I only own Inception in my dreams.

* * *

><p>PROLOGUE:<p>

When the team performed Inception on Robert Fischer, we never expected, or wanted, any further contact with him. In fact, I went to great lengths to make sure that something of this nature would never happen. I erased all evidence that any of the team had been involved in the life of Mr. Fischer. I went through security tapes of the office, smoothed over any ruffled feathers at the office left by Eames observing Peter Browning in order to take note of his quirks. Endless hours of research, spying, sneaking, and clearing of browser history and hacking... and I thought I was done with Inception, and that I could move on with my life.

Wrong.

Dead Wrong.

* * *

><p>"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Browning." I said, shaking her hand gently and moving to push in her chair for her, only to be waved off as she shook off her jacket and eased into a relaxed position and sipped daintily at her Starbucks green tea. (Which coincidentally was my regular order, I would recognize the aroma of their tea anywhere.)<p>

Lucille Browning had an air of expensiveness. Her perfume was light and her clothes tastefully luxurious. She carried herself with a grace that only women of status possessed. You could tell within the first couple of sentences exchanged with her that was used to getting what she wanted, and she got what she wanted by making people want to do things for her. She had black hair streaked tastefully with gray, pulled back into a perfect bun. Her features matched her body, dainty and petite. Sher skin was very pale, and looked as though she had never seen the sun. She oozed elegance and poise.

"Now, I'm not one to beat around the bush, Mr. Leroy. I asked for an appointment with you for a very specific reason. I want an honest answer from you, and in return I will give you my honest motives." She took a moment to take a deep, shaky breath, steadying herself.

"I am dying, Mr. Leroy." She reached to grab a tissue from the box on my desk, and when I expected her to wipe a tear from her face, she began to wipe make-up from her cheek to reveal red, pealing skin. She reached a hand to her black hair and pulled off her wig. Another deep breath sent her into a coughing fit. After a sip of her tea, she seemed to regain control over herself and went on with her speech.

"Cancer. Fifty nine years of smoking seems to have it's toll on my lungs, and a lifetime of tanning has betrayed my skin. And forty years of marriage seem to have deteriorated my husband's memory. He doesn't seem to recall the vows he took, how he loved me then..." Here was the tear I was searching for earlier. It took a long stroll down her cheek before dropping off the end of her chin, and she regained the strength to speak again.

"Of course, these are only suspicions." She said hastily, wiping the offending tear viciously off of her face, and I watched her wince at the action of touching the irritated skin.

"But I want to know before I die... was he loyal to me? Why did he always bury himself in his work, why does he take interest in the things he takes interest in. He loved me when he noticed me as a lowly secretary and rose me up and married me... but now I am questioning his motives as the years have gone by. I miss the Peter that I fell in love with. I want to die in the arms of someone I love. I want to find out if he was faithful, if he still loves me... and if he was, I want him to love me again, even if you have to convince him of that somehow through trickery. I need someone by my side through all of this shit that is going to happen to me at the hospital. I can't do it alone. I need him. Or at least I need to be able to hate him."

She looked at me with pleading eyes, trying to see if she sensed my meaning. I acknowledged her with a nod, handing her the tissue box.  
>"Mrs. Browning, I will discuss the matter with my associates personally. Please, I think you should go home, get some rest. I will email you by the end of the day." She bobbed her head, and I helped her into her jacket, taking the tissue box as she whispered a thank you and swept out the door.<br>Running a hand through my hair, smoothing any strands that may have fallen out of place, I paced the room's length before pulling out my phone, and scrolled until I found the names I was looking for.

Ariadne.

Yes.

Eames.

Yes.

Dylan.

Yes.

Architect, forger, chemist, and point. The team was nearly assembled.

Cobb, my longtime friend was never going back into the field. The year he'd had with his kids have left him as the happiest man in the world. I've never seem Dom so full of life since Mal was alive. He was out of the question.

Scroll.

Scroll.

Liz Leroy.

Send.

Ring.

Ring.

"Hey big brother, what's up?"

* * *

><p>AN: I would beg you to review, but I know you've already pushed that lovely, lovely button. Thanks guys :)


	2. Chapter 2

_I only own Inception in my dreams._

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE:<strong>

I grabbed a cab after I landed in San Francisco, CA, and gave him an address about a block away from the one that Arthur gave me, as he instructed. My suitcase rolled behind me, in a sort of obnoxious wobbling pattern because one of the wheels wasn't all that circular. My high heels (why the hell did I wear heels?) clicked against the sidewalk as I dug up some charisma and an enigmatic air about myself. If you don't present yourself with confidence with the first impression, it takes a lot longer to earn the respect afterwards. Your team has to look to you for the answers and view you as a leader if you want to get anywhere with them under your leadership, especially if the team is all guys. Although, apparently our architect is a girl. Ariadne, as in THE Ariadne who designed the levels for the Inception that is talked about in all the lofty circles of the dream sharing stratosphere.

Deep breaths as I tried to calm myself and focus on my appearance, I smoothed my black pencil skirt and straightened my cream cardigan sweater, taking a moment to play with the ruffles as I came closer and closer to the large office building that looked slightly abandoned and empty, not doubting for a minute that this was the place. It was a tall mirrored glass structure all around and I took the opportunity to fix my brown hair, which I had curled. It was soft, yet authoritative, right on the mark of what kind of image I wanted to present when I met the team.

When I got to the door, a smiling man in a pinstripe gray suit was waiting for me, checking his Rolex in a calmly neurotic sort of way. He glanced up and saw me, and a smile spread across his chiseled features. He had brown eyes, brown hair, and was very slim, just like me. I'd recognize my big brother anywhere. Despite being nearly five years apart, we were often mistaken as twins.

"Liz." He held open the door from me and his arms came around me in a brief hug; Arthur was nothing if he was not professional. We would have time to catch up later. "How are you?" He took my suitcase and left me with my two carry ons.

"I'm well, and yourself?" It felt stiff and formal. Probably because it was.

"I'm good. The team is anxious to meet my illustrious sister." A twinkle of amusement played across his features and flashed across his eyes for a moment. I could already tell whom he was talking about. Eames.

"I've been looking forward to meet them as well. Especially this... Ariadne?" Playful banter disguised innocently as a question was not so easily hidden from my big brother. Arthur recognized my subtle sense of humor from years of us being together. We were like clockwork, us two. Never changing. Everything was constant.

"Yes. She is excited to not be the only female in the room." He brushed off my insinuation as we made our way to the stairs, concrete and harsh, but forgiving since we were on the lower level. Without teetering on my heels, I began to climb down them, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the first flight to look upwards. The stairs looked like they went on forever, but in reality probably only six or seven floors up.

A not-so-subtle cough caught my attention as Arthur held open the door at the bottom, revealing a large room begging for someone to yell "ECHO!" The click of my heels had already begun to bounce off of the walls, revealing our entrance. There were basic stone pillars, and desks and chairs scattered around the room. A corner with a storage closet had a bunch of chemistry related flasks and tools. Another station had various art supplies strewn about, in an obvious state of disarray due to the attempt at organizing things. Another desk with not much on it. There was, however, a pillow, a blanket, and some random clothing articles. I followed Arthur to his desk, where he handed me a Manilla folder with the weight of important information and a big red CONFIDENTIAL stamped on the front. My name was neatly printed in the corner in Arthur's precise hand, underneath it written "Extractor." I noticed several other envelopes with a similar state on them. Ariadne Watson, Architect. Eames, Forger. Dylan Matthews, Chemist.

I smiled at my big brother, thanking him for his hard work and dedication, made my way to an unclaimed desk and began reading into each of the papers methodically.

Sort of.

* * *

><p>I shuffled through papers regarding the target as well as various members of his family and inner circle. Peter Browning, age 63, married to Lucille Browning for 39 years. I flipped lazily to a photo of them on their wedding day, Lucy in a white expensive lacy gown and him in, of course, a tux. Penguin tails and all. Smiling as I eyed it over, I surveyed my team at work, easily distracted from my own.<p>

Eames. He hadn't offered a first name, but I don't think I would have called him by it anyway. He had light brown hair that was carelessly slicked back, a likeable air about him, and a lopsided smile that was positively infectious. I liked him immediately. When I walked in, he'd greeted us with a boisterous hello and a warm hug that lasted a little too long and had definitely been meant to make Arthur feel uncomfortable. I'd laughed it off easily, but Arthur sent a blistering stare towards him when he thought I wasn't watching. At the moment, he was reading the same file, although a bit more fervently than I was. Secretly, I suspected he was on his phone or doing something equally distracting and pointless as Temple Run. I watched as he tilted the manilla file and barely concealed a smile. I'd have to go over there in a bit and check in on his progress and quiz him on the file... If I ever got through it myself.

Ariadne was charming, and I could see why my brother liked her. She had a quirky style that bordered between professional and hipster, leaning towards professional, with a dark suit coat, short khaki skirt a bright red scarf, she'd introduced herself politely and then somehow made her way next to Arthur, standing merely a half step too close, barely noticeable. It might have been nothing if I hadn't watched their eyes meet. You don't stand that close accidentally and then look at eachother like that without there being feelings for the other person. I watched her as she tucked a stray brown lock of her hair and snuck a look at my brother, and then him pretend not to notice. She sighed and turned her attention to her sketchbook, the remedial beginnings of ideas for the different levels in the dream. She'd already finished the packet that Arthur had given each of us. Damnit.

My eyes searched for another distraction and fell on Dylan Matthews. My eyes ran over him appreciatively. With slate blue eyes and dark brown, he was pretty easy on the eyes. Shaking the thought out of my head, grabbed my packet and forced my eyes to read the words, my brain to process my thoughts, and my hand to write down notes.

_It's going to be a long night_, I thought, rising to pour myself a cup of coffee and drown it in cream, then rise it effortlessly to my lips, down it, and get right back to work...


	3. Chapter 3

I only own Inception in my Dreams.

ooooOOOOOoooo

The mere fact that I was at HQ later than Arthur was a little troubling, to be completely honest. Twenty three years old, and I don't leave work until after 3 in the morning. But whatever. I shook my head wearily, fighting a losing battle with my leaden eyelids that were threatening to shut permanently until at least the day after tomorrow.

_Lucille Vivian Hardy-Browning was an only child, and married her husband, Peter, but was unable to have children. It can be presumed that the couple experienced marital problems during this time since Peter Browning was deperate to produce an heir (male or female) to inherit his share of Fischer and Morrow Enterprises..._

"You should be in bed, Liz. It's 4 AM." I looked up startled to see James in front of me, his blazer slung over his shoulder, and his short hair as messy as it could get, considering how little of it there was. "Go home."

I leaned back in my chair and tossed the paperwork onto the desk. "I could say the same thing to you, Mr. Dylan." For the two weeks we'd been working, whenever I had stayed late, James Dylan was always the one to close up shop and lock all the doors and windows at night. He merely rolled his eyes at me, and gestured for me to stand up.

"C'mon, I'll walk you to your car." He waited for me while I grabbed my jacket and purse, shoving all my papers carelessly into a manila folder and cramming it into the bag. "Okay." I said, and we walked out together, when I remembered that Arthur and I had rode together this morning, but that he had left early to get some sleep because he had a meeting with Mrs. Browning tomorrow morning and he had to get a flight before 8, which meant he had to be at the airport by at least 6 AM.

"Arthur took the car, didn't he?" James looked at me knowingly, seeing my face freeze, as well as my leg movements. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and took out my frustration on my makeup, which was probably by now disgustingly smudged all over my face. Now he would feel obligated to give me a ride home, and Eames would no doubt find out through some underhanded source and tease us about it endlessly.

"Yes. Yes, he did." I stated stoically, all of a sudden being jolted awake as an absolutely freezing gust of wind blew open my coat and I shivered angrily in the wind, wrapping my jacket around my body a little tighter and making an intense effort not to look pathetic and helpless, and less like I was throwing myself at my co worker. It was probably not as awkward as I thought it was, and I was reading too far into the situation like I always do.

"Well, mine's around the corner. Arthur's apartment is pretty close by." Except it wasn't. It was at least a half an hour away because my brother hated the city. He hated the feeling of being boxed in without any way out. He preferred the country, or at least a suburb. Fortunately, he hadn't had to compromise to get what he wanted in this case, and he was able to lease a beautiful ranch style house about 30 minutes out of the city, if there wasn't traffic. Arthur didn't mind getting up early to beat the traffic and getting to watch the sunrise. But I sure as hell did. I didn't get any sleep, and then we were off at the crack of dawn to get to work on time.

We walked briskly to his car, which was definitely not "around the corner" like he said, but a good three and a half blocks away.

"Hurry up and get in." He told me quietly, and the second that I shut the door, we sped off with a screech of the tire wheels. His engine filled the car with a quiet, relaxing hum and it would have lulled me to sleep if I hadn't seen the headlights in the rearview mirror that refused to stop following us. At first, it was a subtle 300 yards behind us, but as it creeped up to 75, James' turns down side streets grew more and more frequent.

Turning and turning and turning... but the headlights eventually lost us. Unfortunately, we lost us, too.

ooooOOOOoooo

"Have you ever seen this corner before?" I squinted at the street sign.

"Yeah, I think I did... like five minutes ago."

"I don't understand why you don't have a GPS."

"I told you, I use the one on my phone, but it died. That's why I was going home."

"Whatever."

Silence filled the car, and the quiet hum of the motor stirred as James accelerated, only to come to a stop sign.

"I don't get why you don't have a car phone charger. Who doesn't have a phone charger for in the car?"

"Would you just SHUT UP? You're not helping! If you're so smart, why don't you use YOUR phone to look up exactly where the hell we are!"

I rolled my eyes, and looked out the window. I still hadn't gotten around to getting a new phone that worked. I'd dropped mine in water about three days ago, but I'd been too busy with finishing up the last details on the job that I hadn't picked up my new one from the store yet.

"Oh yeah, that's right, you didn't get it yet." He said snarkily, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he pulled the car over to the side of the road, and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

"What exactly are you doing?"

He turned and looked at me as he reclined his chair, and stretched out his limbs, yawning wide before answering me. "Going to sleep. We can deal with this in the morning."

"Deal with it in the morning?"

"... Yeeeaaahhh..." He said, mid-yawn, already turning onto his side to get comfy and drifting off to sleep, his keys tight against his chest and the windows rolled up tight with the doors locked. I tried to fight off sleep and protest with him, but sleep won over, and I also reclined my chair and fell into a peaceful rest, the first since I'd arrived here.

The last thing I was aware of was Dylan's rythmic breathing.

ooooOOOOoooo 


	4. Chapter 4

I only own Inception in my dreams.

"Well, well, well, where have you two been all night?" Eames said, raising his eyebrow suggestively as Dylan and I walked through the door together the next morning. My shirt was crumpled and my hair in a state of total disrepair. I threw it up haphazardly into a bun while giving Eames the evil eye. I attempted to straighten myself out and announced that I was going on an errand to pick up my phone. I saw Dylan smirk out of the corner of my eye before I made my way out and to my car.

Something about the daylight makes everything seem much less threatening, and so I let my guard down and hummed my favorite song under my breath, even branching out as to let my hair down and take off my heels. I always did hate those shoes. Watching out for broken glass, I crossed the street to where my car was parked, and reached for my keys in my purse when I heard a car door slam nearby.

"Nice of you to show up." Someone was right next to me, breathing on my neck. Arthur.

"Dylan gave me a ride but his phone ran out of charge. We got lost because it was dark. Sorry." I pushed the key into the lock and turned, opening my door. "I'm going to go home and get a change of clothes, then I have an errand to run. We need a team meeting around 11, okay?"

"Liz-" He closed the door for me, and gave me a look that said we needed to talk. I nodded, then started the ignition and sped off.

oooooOOOOooooo

"I've just received word that Mrs. Browning just fell when she was climbing the steps to her home and is in critical condition at ICU. We need to set the plan into action. Mr. Browning is going to be making a flight from Australia to California overnight, that's when the next flight is available, which means we need to be in Australia before then to make the same flight with him. Pack your things and we'll meet at the airport in two hours."

I watched as everyone took in the information, and then as reality set in, Ariadne was the first to stand up and begin to collect her supplies, muttering to herself about all the things that could go wrong, anxiousness evident in her sharp movements. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eames rise and head to his station to sweep up his suit jacket and briefcase in one fluid motion and stalk out of the warehouse with a rapid gait. Dylan is going about collecting his chemicals, and labeling each vial and he pulls out a suitcase and is placing a flask into the lining and meticulously sewing it up so that you can't even notice anything is there.

The only team member I don't see is Liz, and she is perhaps the most important of all. I type out a quick text to her, only to remember that she doesn't have a phone due to an accident last week involving water that she thinks I haven't found out about.

"Shit..." I allow myself the expletive and proceed to panic.

I pace silently, then make my way to my station and pack up paperwork, my laptop, and various other supplies that I think might help myself and the rest of the team on the flight down under. Ariadne is standing in front of my desk with worry in her big brown eyes, but I ignore her in favor of burying myself in paperwork, the way I usually do.

"Arthur?" I glance up for a moment, but a moment too long. I won't be able to disengage from her perfect eyes now.

"Do you need help with anything? I finished with my things, and you seem a little bit... overwhelmed at the moment." She chooses each word carefully, and pronounces them crisply. I almost have to shake my head to pull out of the trance she has put over me with her simply question.

"No, I'm okay, I just finished." I shut my briefcase with finality and attempt to turn away from her gaze, but her careful vocabulary captures my attention again.

"Do you need to talk?" Genuine concern plays across her delicate features, and I'm half tempted to give in, but I have to go find Liz, who seems to have disappeared this morning, at the moment when we need her most. If Mrs. Browning dies before we can deliver our information, and she can sign the money over to us, then all of our efforts will have been in vain, and a woman will die uncertain if the man who pledged her his love has been true. In my eyes, uncertainty is one of the worst fates a person can endure.

"No, I need to go find Liz, she had to go home but she doesn't have her phone. Just make sure that everyone is on that plane." She nods, and gets out of my way and I give her an uneasy smile as I make my way to the door, and within a minute, I'm peeling off in search of my evasive sister.

oooooOOOOOOooooo

It normally takes about thirty five minutes to get to my house. I make it in twenty.

Liz is nowhere to be found, but it seems like there has definitely been someone in the house within the last couple hours, and both Liz and I haven't been here for at least twenty four. I make my way to my quarters, a neat and classic looking bedroom, where I pack a charcoal gray suit, a crisply ironed white shirt and a simple forest green tie. It all goes into a garment bag and then into a suitcase, as well as some comfortable clothes for pajamas and a pre-packed toiletry bag that I always keep in the bottom drawer of the bathroom cupboard, right next to the 9mm.

I'm out of the house in less than ten minutes, and I methodically go through the list of places that Liz would likely be if she had to run an errand. Starbucks. Grocery store. Shit. If she just had her phone, this would be so much easier. In frustration, and slight desperation, I send a mass text to the team inquiring if anyone knows where Liz might be. I get a text right away from Ariadne, with a negative response. She has no idea. A similar one from Eames follows a few minutes later. I'm running low on hope when the text from Dylan comes. My phone buzzes furtively.

**Try the phone store. She mentioned getting hers replaced last night.**

I'm so happy when I find her I could practically kiss the ground where our chemist walks. We speed to the airport, with an hour before our flight leaves. Our bags are checked and the team waits with our purchased tickets on the other side of the gate. I make my way to board and reach inside my jacket pocket to give my passport to the worker to pass through the gates.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can not allow you past this point without your passport since you will be making an international flight." I retrace my steps mentally, looking for the error where I forgot it, but I distinctly remember placing it in my pocket that morning, and I hadn't taken my jacket off all day. I search my memory for an slight jostling where someone might have pickpocketed me, but I can find no instance at the airport where that occurred.

"Excuse me sir, but if you would please move, you are holding up the line." He smiles politely and gestures to the side of the isle where I would be out of the way of the rapid foot traffic. I make my way over to the side, and catch the eye of Ariadne waiting for me on the other side of the gate.

Her eyes are pleading and questioning, confusion evident in her expression. She walks over to a space where the barrier is just a rope at waist height.

"Someone stole my passport." I explain before she has the chance to ask the question. She surprises me by setting down her bags and wrapping me into a hug.

"We can't do this without you." She whispers, making herself sound more vulnerable than she actually is. I wrap my arms around her tiny frame, enjoying the closeness before telling her that they'll be just fine, and that I'll be on the next flight to Australia, and not to worry.

Ariadne reluctantly lets go of me, at the voicing of my promise that I'll be there before we begin the job, even though I am having doubts that are larger than slight. Actually, I'm freaking out because it's more than a slim possibility that I won't be accompanying them when they extract the truth about Peter Browning, and his fidelity, or lack thereof to his wife.

Before I know what's happening, I'm planting a small kiss on her forehead, and telling her to go while I search out my passport. She nods, and picks up her suitcase and meets up with Liz to fill her in at the change in events. I see Liz make a move to come and talk to me, but then they call for their flight number to board, and she makes her way to the gate that will lead her to her first job without her big brother at her side.

ooooOOOOOoooo

My suitcase is rolling behind me and I go to the window and watch my plane take off when someone taps me on the shoulder, and when I turn around, a petite woman with blond hair that curls softly, and a frame that is so slight she might be a child if it weren't for her clothes. A black pencil skirt that clings almost too tightly to be considered professional, and a daring green v-neck cotton blouse tell me nothing about her. However, when I see the condescending smirk on her face and the small black book that she is holding tauntingly out of my reach, and just fifteen minutes too late for it to be of any use, it is clear of her intent, who she is, and how effective whoever it is that she works for is.

The confidence she oozes shows that they are not afraid of my squealing, because they know that I don't want to draw attention to myself, and they know that I am in the dream sharing world, because when she hands me the passport, claiming that she found it on the ground and thought it was me from the picture, she calls me Arthur Leroy, not Michael Jameston like the passport says.

With what she considered mere intimidation tactics, I have discovered who she is. She walks away, confident and arrogant with the results of delaying me, not realizing that her actions have given me more than a good clue towards the fact that Cobal Engineering is behind the delay.

oooooOOOOOOooooooo

I gaze out the plane window and watch as the airport grows smaller and smaller. I imagine Arthur watching by the window, watching our plane leave without him on it.

Thoughts are speeding through my head at a million miles an hour. How are we going to be able to do the job on our own? Arthur's expertise in the field was something that I'd relied on as a given throughout this whole process. Eames has that experience as well, but Arthur's smarts one strategizing made him the more knowledgeable of the two in the field. I sighed and watched as the window fogged up, and I draw a smiley face in the condensation.

I've never been in the field without Arthur, and the idea of going under without the reassurance of my big brother is more frightening than I thought it would be. While independence is a good thing, I love having my brother with me to look after me, and protect me without judging me or anything.

I look across the isle to Ariadne, who is lost in thought next to Eames, staring blankly out the window. Dylan next to me shifts in his chair and that brings me back to reality. I feel his arm around me, and it is more comforting than I would've thought for such a simple act. At the moment when I begin to relax, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket.

**I'll be on the next flight in 7 hours. Get some sleep.**

I follow his advice now that I know he's on his way, and drift off with my head resting on Dylan's shoulder and his hand gently clasped protectively over mine. I sleep soundly for all of the plane ride.


End file.
